


Cover of Darkness

by KittieMitties



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Disabled Character, Gen, Mentions of past abuse, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieMitties/pseuds/KittieMitties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An introduction to the Castle Guard named Marcus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover of Darkness

He likes it best when it’s dark and quiet; he can drift for hours without the fear of an altercation.

Making his way to the courtyard, he finds and scales his favourite tree, settling himself on a sturdy branch. He lets his head fall back against the trunk and closes his eyes. _They hurt more than usual._ His fingertips rub at the ridged skin below one unseeing optic. The twinge of pain it still brings is unpleasant, but in no way a surprise. His hand drops to his lap and he sighs.

They don’t like him, he knows that. He’s too tall, his skin is too dark, his hair too thick, too long. He has ‘evil eyes’, or at least, that’s what they jeered when they attacked him. That was years ago though. Do they still think that?

Probably.

He doesn’t understand, if they hate him so much, why would they blind him? Surely it would’ve been better to leave him whole, to be able to leave the castle walls. Maybe then he’d’ve perished up on the mountain instead of being locked in with them. What could be the benefit of his inability to leave?

Maybe this was their plan. Maybe they’re pleased with the damage they’ve done, and his constant presence, the gaze he can’t turn on anyone, gives them some sick sense of pride. He keeps his helmet on because of that.

Becoming a soldier was supposed to give him anonymity, to make things better. Instead he gets cold stares and hateful words whispered just loud enough for him to hear. The pay is good, his parents are proud and they get it, they know what the townsfolk are like and they do their best to help but-

Tears prick at his eyes and he squeezes them shut; a sob rips itself from his throat. He draws his knees to his chest, presses his face against them. 

Grief drips freely down his face to dampen his pant legs as he quivers in his solitude. He pulls himself in tight and wonders what he's done to earn their scorn. 

The heavy scrape of the stone door reaches his ears and he stills. He holds his breath as footsteps approach and halt next to his hiding place. Time drags when the first wave of tobacco burns his nose.

He’s frozen in place while the figure below smokes lazily at the base of the tree. Finally, there's a huff, the crunch of used ashes under a booted heel, fading footfalls and the loose clunk of the door.

Breathing out slowly, he uncurls his limbs, tension bleeding out from his spine as he slumps against the tree once more. He scrubs his hands over his face and climbs back down, taking a few minutes to calm his racing heart.

He manages to drag himself away from the tree, pleasantly confused to find he does, in fact, feel better, and heads back inside the walls to his station, comfortable in his own thoughts. 

He wanders the cobblestone streets in the dead of night and he feels like he’s finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Putting this here because I had to write it for a contest and I thought the feedback was neat.  
> It was essentially 'We're not sure what you're doing but we like it'
> 
> More information on Marcus is here  
> http://kittiemitties.tumblr.com/tagged/Marcus


End file.
